


Patriot Dream

by Jantique



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Idealism, Patriotism, the proper reply to satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jantique/pseuds/Jantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve knows that the United States isn’t perfect. Never has been, undoubtedly never will be. But that’s not a defeat—that’s the <i>challenge</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patriot Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Alison.

Clint adored the humor magazine MAD, with its (occasionally) point-on satire and snarky, irreverent humor. Tony liked it too, but he rarely had time for it. He counted on Clint going through and showing him the parts he thought Tony would really appreciate. (They were also trying to educate JARVIS, but it was slow going. Humor is such a subjective thing.) 

Steve tried, but he just didn’t know so many of the movies, shows, celebrities and most of all, the _references_. Everyone knew “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse”, right? Steve said, “Is that a quotation?”, Tony said, “Right, we need to schedule a “Godfather” marathon.” Forty-eight hours later he understood the reference, but next week it was “So is ‘We’re gonna need a bigger boat’ a sexual reference?” And so it went. Steve preferred reading straight non-fiction, anyway. Was he supposed to actually _care_ about the Kardashians?!

However, one day Clint came to Steve, rolled-up copy of Mad Magazine in hand, and said, “Cap, you know “America the Beautiful, right?” He was never quite sure what Steve knew or didn’t (and couldn’t be assed to look up the song’s history.)

“Yes, of course.” Steve was very fond of “America the Beautiful”, an inspiring song about the country he loved.

“Okay, then, you’re gonna like this. Check this out.” He handed the magazine to Steve, who carefully unrolled it. Books were precious to Steve, and even if this magazine would be thrown out in a few days, you just _did not_ treat the written word that way.

It proved to be opened to a double-page spread with the lyrics of the first verse of “America the Beautiful” spread across the pages, each line with a matching photograph below it. Steve thought this was a fine idea—until he actually looked at the pictures. But. Under “O beautiful for spacious skies” was a picture of smokestacks belching forth pollution, darkening the sky. Under “For amber waves of grain” was a picture of the Dust Bowl, crops withered and dead. And so it went, down to “And crown thy good with brotherhood” showing race riots, white cops attacking black protesters. “From sea to shining sea” was just dead fish, floating belly up.

Clint was explaining, “See, this is satire. Taking the song and showing the way things really are. The contrast.” He noticed that Steve was frowning. “Aw, c’mon, man, it’s funny.”

“I understand the use of dichotomy.” He was an artist, he got that. “But some of this stuff—it’s not even current. It’s not a valid argument.”

Clint shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s all America, right? Our glorious history.” He winced. He wasn’t proud of all the stuff—but that was the way it was.

Steve couldn’t deny that it was all true, for values of “true” including “in a certain place, at a certain time”. But—“Why can’t they show the way that things _should_ be?”

Clint shook his head. “Hey, that’s not their job. They’re pointing out what’s wrong. It’s up to someone else to go and fix it.”

Steve sighed and said, “Okay, yeah, maybe it’s me.” It generally _was_ when he didn’t “get” something in the 21st century. But he thought about it. He thought about it some more. And he decided to write a Letter to the Editor.

Words weren’t his strong suit—pictures were. But he couldn’t just draw purple mountain majesties and fruited plains. That wouldn’t convey the message he needed to express. He tried, and tried again. Crumpled balls of paper filled his wastebasket. And finally, he had it.

He wished he could have checked it out with Bucky or, better still, Peggy. She could have advised him on language, grammar, made it better. As it was, he thought his best bet was Clint. He read the magazine regularly, and could tell Steve if what he’d written was appropriate—or just hopelessly mid-twentieth century. If anyone nowadays would care what he’d written.

He went down to the archery range, where Clint was practicing. He didn’t want to share it with everyone until he got at least one vote of approval. While he wanted honesty, Tony could be—well, if there was a joke in it, Tony would make it. Steve trusted Clint to be honest but less mocking.

He watched while Hawkeye finished his set (flawless as always). The archer retrieved his arrows, then turned to him. “Hey, Cap, what’s up?”

“Ah, I wrote a letter to the editor. Would you mind reading it over for me?”

Barton looked puzzled. He wasn’t generally ( _ever_ ) people’s first choice for literary criticism. “Sure, but—are you positive you want me? If this is to the Times or somewhere, you’re really better off—“

Steve cut in, “No, it’s to Mad Magazine.”

“Oh.” Light dawned. “OH! This is about that ‘America the Beautiful’ thing, right? Sure, I’ll read it!” He held out his hand, but Steve didn’t put the piece of paper in it.

“Look, um, you can laugh at me; that’s okay. Better you than thousands of other people. Just … be honest, okay? Tell me whether it’s okay to mail in or if I should just keep it to myself.”

Barton looked him in the eye. “Steve, I will be absolutely honest with you, you have my word. That’s not your job, to make a fool of yourself in public. It’s TONY’S job to make a fool of himself in public.” They both grinned. “C’mon now, let me see it.”

Steve handed over the paper. Clint started to read it, exclaimed “Oh!”, and started humming under his breath.

When he finished, there was a moment of silence. Finally Clint swore softly, “ _FUCK_ , Rogers!”

That didn’t sound promising. Steve prepared himself for the worst.

“This is…” Clint shook his head. “This is _FUCKING PERFECT_. If you don’t send it in, I will!”

And this is what Steve wrote:

How literal, unto thy brain,  
Each meager word doth seem.  
Hast thou no broad, impassioned scope,  
No visionary dream?  
Mad Editor, Mad Editor,  
Canst thou not understand—  
The song’s beauty is an ideal  
For our imperfect land! 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> So—Absolutely True Story. Many, many years ago, possibly sometime in the 1970s, MAD Magazine published the photo spread described above. I’m not sure I got all the pictures right, but I think I’m pretty close. And, in the fullness of time, they published a Letter to the Editor by Alison Kirk of Wheeling, West Virginia. Her letter, as best as I recall it, is Steve’s reply. I have a horrible memory—but this, I remember. I don’t know Ms. Kirk, who or where she is, but I hope that she won’t mind that I recycled her words here. Because they deserve to be remembered.


End file.
